


Beyond the official story

by von_gikkingen



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Canon, Conspiracy Theories, Erik Killmonger Lives, Gen, Humor, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Post-Black Panther (2018), Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gikkingen/pseuds/von_gikkingen
Summary: “The ending is too narratively satisfying,” I say before I can stop myself. “That’s why you’re not buying it. Ties up the loose ends so neatly. It’s the kind of ending you get with a story. Real life, not so much. Here we end up with things that are… messier. That don’t feel like endings.”“Yes. Yes,” she says, her eyes going wide. “That’s exactly what it is. It’s all too… conclusive.”"Makes you wonder what ACTUALLY happened."
Kudos: 2





	Beyond the official story

“We need to talk.”

“Is this about me eating all your cereal? Are you really going to be _this_ dramatic about it?” I say, blinking at my roommate who did the whole turn-around-in-the-chair thing as soon as I walked into the room. Being _exactly_ that dramatic about it.

If this really was about my lack of boundaries when it came to food I was absolutely loving this. Here I was thinking she had no sense of humor.

“First of all - you did _what_?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m gonna replace it, okay? Look, I’ll go right now…” I sigh, reaching for the jacket I literally just took off.

I wasn’t exactly excited about the prospect of a trip to the shop but it’s not like I had any illusions about being in the right here. Nope. I was the asshole in this situation while Nancy, for all her dramatics, had a point.

“That can wait.”

I find myself blinking as I try to adjust to what just came out of her mouth. “Do we have something _more serious_ to discuss…?”

“Yeah, Thea,” she sighs in a very exasperated-adult-dealing-with-an-overgrown-child way. “Did me opening with _we need to talk_ not imply that?”

“Grown up conversation alert,” I utter unhappily as I drag myself to the chair opposite hers. “You’re not moving out, are you?”

Her expression tells me that random guess missed the mark. Good. The idea of trying to make the rent without her does _not_ sound appealing. “No,” she says. “I’m staying right here. As per orders.”

I do a double take because what does that even mean?

“Okay, I’m _really_ confused,” I say. As calmly as I can considering I’m feeling just about the opposite. Because something real weird is happening here and whatever it is I can already tell the punchline is not going to be something I will find funny. “You’re… not in Hydra or something, are you?”

“No,” she says and a smile breaks through her very serious expression for the very first time since I got home.

“But that is exactly what you’d say if you _were_...”

“I’m not in Hydra,” she repeats, rolling her eyes at me. “Look, I’m _trying_ to tell you what I am. Would have by now if it wasn’t for all the interrupting.”

“Right,” I say and force myself to stop it there even though the desire to nervously ramble on is strong. I mean… even discounting the big baddies whose ability to lay low for decades is well established there are so many other things she can be. And I want to be cool about this because she’s about the most reliable and inoffensive roomie I had to date – but if she pulls her face off to show me she has been an alien lizard underneath this whole time I don’t think I’ll be able to just take it in my stride.

Which is why her eventual answer comes as such a relief…

“Okay. Yeah. I can live with that,” I nod to myself before adding the inevitable, “And, ehm, what is a… Did you say _wardog_?”

“It means I’m a Wakandan deep cover operative.”

“Wakanda,” I repeat. “As in that place in Africa that’s been making news lately?”

“The very same.”

I think about it for another second, mentally going through all that this implies. Quickly arriving at... “Wait – didn’t you just blow your cover by telling me?”

“I did.”

“So I guess Wakanda is over secrets just generally,” I comment, since that kinda adds up. What with the tone of the speech their king made the other day.

“That’s just the thing. We’re _not_. Over secrets just generally,” she says, smiling slightly at the phrase.

“But you just told me you're...”

“I did.”

She waits. I take a breath and put into words the biggest problem I have with this state of affairs. “It's not because you consider me someone who can be trusted with that kind of a secret, is it? No, of course it's not," I add, answering my own question. "You _met_ me.”

“I...” she starts, but whatever she was about to tell me devolves into a chuckle. That starts subdued, sure, but it doesn’t take long for her to be openly laughing in my face. And I can’t even get mad at her. It’s not like I couldn’t tell she’s been pretty stressed these last few days. It’s probably a miracle her laughter doesn’t sound a good deal more hysterical. “You know,” she says, catching her breath, “one thing I can say for you… You really have the right measure of yourself.”

“I don’t think that was a compliment. Now can you _please_ tell me why the hell would you let me know you’re a spy. It’s not like I’ve been onto you.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she grins. “Look, obviously I have a reason.”

That is reassuring to hear. Except – is it? Because her very serious, very adult expression is back in place, just like that.

“As far as I know no one got authorized to reveal themselves. We’re still under orders to keep on living under our assumed identities, pretending it's business as usual. And I intend to do just that. Not huge on disobeying orders,” she says, her expression growing unreadable for a moment. “That being said I really need to take a trip to Oakland.”

I frown at her, not entirely sure why she said it in that meaningful a tone. “And telling me helps you with that _how_?”

She starts explaining. I nod a few times because, sure, that makes sense. As much sense as anything did since the beginning of this conversation… “So, you see, I wouldn’t be going against my orders if I’d be just going as moral support on a trip you planned to take way before... Without you as my excuse it’d be pretty obvious I was…”

“Just going there for reasons, whatever they are…” I sigh. “Okay, getting the picture now. Worse, I can actually think of an excuse for us to head that way. I have a cousin who lives thereabouts. Bit of a weirdo. I might be able to make a case for him being overdue for an intervention. And… you know all that don’t you?” I realize from the suggestion of a smile on her face.

“I did have to look into your background before I could start associating with you.”

“Right. In case I was a deep cover operative or something,” I comment. A little surprised when I hear no sarcasm behind the words. I even manage a smile.

“So…” not-Nancy says, looking at me. Waiting. Uncertain, I realize, and that’s a look I am _not_ used to seeing on her.

“We wouldn’t be heading into something dangerous, would we?”

“ _No_ ,” she's assuring me before I’m even done asking the question. “Nothing dangerous. It’s just… someplace I’m not supposed to be anywhere near because the person I am has no reason to ever go there,” she shrugs vaguely.

“The person you’re _pretending to be_ ,” I correct.

“That’s fair,” she says, looking almost guilty just then. I guess my expression isn't letting her know that I already made the decision to play along and give her the excuse to head for Oakland she apparently wants so badly.

“So… I'll be in danger, yet I’d still get to feel like a spy?” I say. Pausing for a long second because no way I’m letting her be the only one milking this conversation for all the drama it’s worth. “Yeah, I’d be up for it. But I do need to know _why_ we’re taking a completely premeditated trip to the other side of the country.”

“That’s a really long story,” she says, even as her expression brightens at the news.

“Yeah,” I say, stretching the word out. “It’s not like I expect it to be a short one, with all I know about Wakanda. All I didn’t know just a week ago,” I add as it hits me just how weird this all is.

“Look, what it comes down to is a whole lot of stuff that didn’t make the news. Political stuff. Royal family drama. Even I know very little,” she says, shrugging. “And what I _do_ know sounds suspiciously like _we had a slight weapons malfunction but we’re all fine here now…_ ”

I chuckle because that is _such_ a weird thing to make it into our very serious conversation about disobeying orders and taking unauthorized trips.

“I’m serious. That’s exactly what it sounded like. _Rightful ruler on the throne and there will be no more insane orders about overthrowing governments, we’re all fine, thank you, how are you?_ ” she says, making a face. My own grin freezes on my face about a second later, as I mentally replay what she just said.

“I’m sorry – _overthrowing what?_ ”

“Told you it was a long story,” she says with a tired smile.

“Better start telling it then.”

**_..._ **

“I think you’re right.”

“Come again?” she says, blinking at me in surprise.

“Well, okay, let me rephrase that. I _don’t_ think you’d have hard time dying after taking whatever weird herb that Killmonger guy was high on. That’s not a thing,” I say. Only to be met with one hell of a strange smile from her. “Oh _what_?” I say, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Just wondering how you feel about a malnourished kid from Brooklyn turning into a musclebound demigod after taking a mystery serum. Is that _a thing_?” not-Nancy asks, her tone bordering on amused. “What about a scientist treating himself to more than his daily recommended dose of gamma radiation and suddenly…”

“Okay, fine,” I roll my eyes. “I’m not an authority on what’s possible. But _come on_. As potent as your magic herbs might be are you really telling me they can… What? Give you the ability to walk off being _stabbed_?”

“No,” sighs the Wakandan superspy. “What I’m telling you is – I’ve been _told_ he was mortally wounded. And maybe that’s true. For the transfer of power there does have to be a confrontation. I don’t doubt that part happened. But for some reason I’ll feel a lot better once someone shows me a body.”

I force myself to stay quiet, seeing she’s trying to order her thoughts. Even though this would be the perfect time for me to tell her that the reason she wants to see some evidence before she buys what she's being sold? I know what it is.

“If you knew half the stories I grew up with you’d be skeptical too. Black Panthers don’t die that easily.”

“The ending is too narratively satisfying,” I say before I can stop myself, putting the source of her doubts into words for her. “Ties up the loose ends so neatly. It’s the kind of ending you get with a story. Real life, not so much. Here we end up with things that are… messier. That don’t feel like endings.”

“Yes. _Yes_ ,” she says, her eyes going wide. “That’s exactly what it is. It’s all too… tidy. An ending of _a story_.”

“One that makes you want to go _sure, but what **actually** happened?_” I add.

“I’m not crazy, am I?” my tall, dark, total stranger of a roomie asks. As if she couldn’t tell by the look on my face that we’re on the same wavelength here.

“Will you buy the tickets, or shall I…?”

**_... a few days later..._ **

“Can I have that back, please?”

“That?” I repeat, my eyes wide with outrage. “ _That_?” I say again, sounding if anything _more_ scandalized. “She has a _name,_ you monster...”

“Thea,” sighs my cousin, as I glare at him from behind an oversized pillow with a skinny, pink-haired anime girl prominently featured on it.

“ _That_ ,” I repeat again, not letting the act drop for a second. “You’re talking about my _wife,_ Justin, you insensitive…”

“How did you even find it?” he interrupts.

I say nothing, merely continue to cower behind the thing, human shield style. A sight that must be pretty damn ridiculous, since it makes him give up trying to be reasonable with me and start grinning instead.

“Seriously, though, I need to get myself one of these,” I tell him. “It’s downright awesome.”

“I mean… I guess…” he says, clearly not trusting this attitude of mine. Which checks out since all he normally gets from relatives are asshole comments about how he needs to get a life.

I open my mouth to assure him I do genuinely want to get myself a ridiculously big pillow of my very own, but before I can I hear the knock on the door. Which means the time for family bonding is over. Because not-Nancy is back and bringing news that better end all this suspense. The suspense I am _not_ handling well...

“So?” I say after I cross the distance between me and the door in something like a nanosecond.

“ _So_ ,” she says, getting in and closing the door after her before adding the, “alive.”

“ _Shut. Up._ ”

“It was a close call, but…”

“Panthers are just not that easy to kill,” I say, guessing that was where _that_ sentence was headed. It was pretty much her catchphrase since we started collaborating on this conspiracy theory, after all. “So what happens now?”

“None of the things that _should_ happen,” she says bitterly. “We’re not putting him on trial. Because, and I quote, _he assumed he’d be put in a cage and we can’t be the people that will do that to him after a lifetime of doing nothing **for** him_.”

“That’s a bullshit justification,” I say before I have the time to think about whose judgement I’m insulting here.

“It _is_ ,” she agrees, not missing a beat. “But it’s the king’s bullshit justification and that makes it the plan we’re going with. The plan that is _so_ going to blow up in our faces…”

That’s not all she has to say on the subject – it’s just that the rest comes in Xhosa and is therefore incomprehensible to me. Though I’m like ninety percent sure most of what she just said must have been swearing…

And there would have been a lot more if only Justin didn’t choose that moment to interject with, “So… I am _not_ following any of this. But it sounds dramatic.”

“Not in a good way,” I tell him. As if he wasn’t getting the idea from the way not-Nancy is still muttering under her breath, the flow of angry words seemingly beyond her ability to stiffle.

“Is there something we can do for her, or…?” he asks.

I shake my head, opening my mouth to tell him that no, there isn’t. And then I don’t.

“Actually,” I say instead, taking hold of Nancy’s arm and softly tugging her in the direction of the couch, currently occupied only by the anime pillow. “I know _exactly_ what we need right now. Three words. _Mythical. Lizard. Testicle_.”

“ _What?_ ” exclaims Nancy, looking at me with the kind of worry for my mental health that statement kinda deserves.

“She wants to watch _Dragon Ball_ ,” groans Justin. Who was _not_ a fan of that joke no matter how many times I tried it on him.

“I mean…” I shrug, faced with the skepticism that suggestion meets with, “It’s not gonna fix any of our problems – but it’s not gonna make them worse, either.”

Unable to argue with that she does settle down – and promptly proceeds to snuggle against my waifu and sharing with her growled comments about how this is the worst thing to ever happen and obviously one of the signs of the apocalypse…

“You know what the worst part is? He _wanted to die_. Goddamn heart shaped herb…” she says miserably.

“Hey,” I say as comfortingly as I can manage, not being overjoyed about the news myself. “At least now you know for a fact he’s still around. That must count for something. Can’t be a phantom menace if we know he exists, right?”

That gets me a tired chuckle. Then, after giving it a moment’s thought, she seems to decide that in fact this warrants an actual laugh. “That is the stupidest argument I ever felt reassured by,” she announces eventually.

“Good,” I grin. “Now hush. Whatshisface is having an anime meltdown. I don’t wanna miss a second of it.”

**_..._ **

“How was Oakland?”

“Definitely not as exciting as your evening spent breaking and entering,” I tell to what I’m assuming is yet another wardog. Not-Nancy’s lack of violent response to this total stranger we find in our apartment on arriving from the airport seems to indicate as much, anyway. “Wow. We really nailed the whole keeping your cover intact thing, didn’t we? No one has a clue that we actually went to get you near the people working on _the project_ so you can bully them into telling you what things are like back home,” I add, addressing my roommate. “You guys catch up,” I say, already heading for my bedroom. “I have unpacking to do anyway.”

No one argues with that. Even the not unexpected comment of “How much does she know?” I catch just before I close the door after me sounds more matter-of-fact than anything else. There’s no accusation there. The Wakandans really are adapting to this _let’s just stop with all the secrecy_ policy fast.

I kept expecting someone would raise _some_ protest over me knowing all about their business, but this was like the third wardog I met in so many days and... no, he didn't seem to mind.

Though that might have had something to do with him having bigger problems...

“What do you mean _alive?_ ” comes his voice from the living room loud enough for me to hear through the closed door. Which immediately makes me wish I was there for that fun conversation. But no, bad Thea, _boundaries_.

"Oh just get over here," not-Nancy tells me on catching me poking my head into the room about a minute later. 

“Fine. But only because I know so much classified information that being told more makes no difference at this point,” I say as I head for my favorite chair. “So… what we talking about? Could it be the most prolific killer ever to claim Wakandan heritage? Because there’s no such thing as too much when it comes to discussing _him_. And it’s _not_ been giving me nightmares…”

“It has?" frowns not-Nancy.

"Fine, it hasn't. But I get second hand stress just from being around you," I add quickly, because that needs saying. The last few days both were and _weren't_ fun. More of the latter if I'm being totally honest. "Is any of you guys due home anytime soon? Just for a visit I mean. To make sure no one is setting things on fire anymore. Maybe then we'd be able to chill," I add meaningfully.

“I mean... I’m trying to get through to her what _a sleeper agent_ is,” says not-Nancy, pointedly not looking at me as she speaks to her fellow wardog. “Every now and then I think she almost gets it – and then she starts throwing around terms like _quick trip home_.” 

“I don't think that's an entirely terrible idea," replies the man. Hard to tell which one of us he surprises more with that. 

"Right?" I grin when I get over the initial shock from being agreed with. "All in favor of putting _someone_ on the next plane for Wakanda?" I say, my hand already in the air. And immediately get told that it's just not that simple. Which is about what I expected. Still, I had to try.

As much as I sympathized with all the other wardogs I felt entitled to some sympathy myself. I was the one that had to live with one, after all. 

**_... several months later..._ **

"Well?" is what I welcome her back with. 

Back from the quick trip home she kept insisting she's never gonna get approved, that is.  


"Well..." she replies, her expression giving nothing away. And there goes the quality that makes her so damn formidable in her chosen profession of lying for a living. "Nobody told me that Jabari stopped doing their own thing up in the mountains and started to mingle with the general population a bit."

"Is that... a bad thing?"  


"It's not great not to have any warning walking into that. Thea," she says, taking hold of my shoulders to assure I keep eyecontact with her as she adds a heartfelt, "they are _so hot_."  


"That's... good to know," I say, letting my tone to tell her she had her fun but I'd love the report now. 

I mean, sure, her whole demeanor gave me every reason to believe the news she had were on the good side. Better than anything she expected to find on return home, I was sure - because the difference between the kind of dark mood she was stuck in for months now and the one she was exhibiting now was startling. I was looking at someone who was freed from all her worries for her country, her tribe, her family in few short days. 

And I was finding I was _not_ capable of waiting for her to tell me in her own time. 

"Okay, fine," she grins in response to me insisting she talks and talks _now._ "So... You know how I didn't used to agree with wasting time on rehabilitating someone who seemed by all accounts irreparably broken?" 

I open my mouth to tell her that is in no way an answer to my questions. And then I realize what she was telling me just by the way she phrased it. 

_ Didn't use to agree. _

"What changed?"  


"I met him. Made all the difference. Now I know - _he's one of us_." 

"That... I mean, didn't we know that? Of course he's Wakandan," I say, frowning as I try to decode her meaning. 

"No, no. He's one of _us_ ," she says, again with that emphasis I just can't begin to interpret. And the way it coincides with her straining not to smile as she says the words is if anything only further confusing me. "As in the people that are not happy about him still drawing breath." 

I stare at her blankly. I'm trying my best here but that's yet another thing we kinda already knew, so her saying it like it was breaking news is just... confusing. 

"He _really_ hates it," she says, now actually grinning. "More than anyone." 

"More than _you_? Yeah, I  call bullshit on that..."

Which is easy enough to do, what with the memory of the way she used to be like still so fresh in my mind. She was on edge for months. Gloomy out of sense of foreboding. A certainty that as long as Killmonger lives he's plotting and he's going to enact some new horrifying play for domination any day now. With her once again too far away to help.

"I'm telling you," she says, still grinning. "Hates it. When he first came to he was all about assigning blame. Took forever and apparently insane amounts of evidence to finally convince him no one lifted a finger to keep him among the living. Everything changed when he realized it really was just the effects of the herb. I'm almost sorry I missed all that."  


"You are?" 

"Apparently there was a lot of glaring going on. Like he was trying to force choke people on the off chance that was another ability he got - a direct quote," she grins. And I can't help but join her. Because if this is an act it's an incredibly convincing one and it's doing wonders for my own mood. 

"So we're happy he's alive?" I say, still having some trouble with the idea. Because he's called _Killmonger_ for god's sake. A nickname he more than earned going by what I've been hearing from all these Wakandan friends I have these days. 

"It's better than the alternative," she replies. And I can tell she means every word. 

"You're really won over, aren't you?" I shake my head. "Details. When you say you met him..." 

"Just briefly. It was long enough for me to understand," she says. "Okay, let me try to put it into words." 

"Yes, _please_." 

"The main thing you need to know is... I _don't_ like him. Not one bit. That's kinda the norm for everyone, I gather. He's hard to like. Abrasive and still plenty angry and just... Yeah, not what you'd call likeable and he's deliberately trying to play it up as far as I can tell. But," she pauses, searching for words. "I dislike him pretty much in the same way I don't like some relatives of mine. More so now that  I know all you have to do is show them a corpse and the idiots are ready to sign up for a revolution," she adds, making a face. 

"So he's the worst but he's still family," I sum up. 

"Meeting him made all the difference, I think. Made him a person to me instead of some vague figure on the throne, giving orders I _really_ don't want to follow. A person I am _not_ a huge fan of. But I'm still all for getting him help."

"Wasn't that always the case?" 

"Yeah, but now I don't support it because it might diffuse him as a threat. I'm onboard because it's what he needs. Deserves. You know?" 

"Sure. I thought you knew I find all of this totally relatable. I mean... New king that's all about world domination, getting lied about him being out of the picture, having to put up with a clueless sidekick whose only qualification is agreeing with you on there being a coverup - isn't that a totally universal situation?"  


She just grins and calls me something in Xhosa which I'm pretty sure is some kind of underhanded compliment, or a term of endearment at the very least. "What?" she adds in response to the look on my face. 

"Just... can't believe it got resolved this easily," I shrug. 

"I wouldn't say resolved. There's still like 12% chance he'll go right back to being the reason we can't have nice things first chance he gets. I'm just... not worried." 

"Because?" 

"Even if whatever the worst case scenario is comes to pass it's not like it's going to amount to anything more than..." 

"A slight weapons malfunction?" I grin. 

"Pretty much." 

I nod to myself because, yeah, I can live with that. Since the new world order didn't come to pass this is hardly something I can consider my problem. I did so, still, if only in sympathy with all these delightful spies that became the fixture of my life lately. And right now, seeing just how unconcerned not-Nancy is about all this, what else can I do but let the relief flow through me?

"You know what this means, though, right?" 

"How often do I know what anything means," I reply immediately. "Why? What does it mean?" 

"That we're going to need a new conspiracy to get a little too intense about." 

"Walt Disney was in Hydra?" I suggest. 

"Everyone knows _that_..." 

I just smile and keep naming other options. Because when is one conspiracy ever enough...? Besides - walls do look so much better covered in pieces of paper and strands of red yarn.   



End file.
